


The Bastille Brat

by SparkleInTheStars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bastille Brat, Bastille Rescue, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Extended Scene, French Revolution, Historical, Light Dom/sub, Light Spanking, M/M, Missing Scene, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Tenderness, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/pseuds/SparkleInTheStars
Summary: When Crowley rescues Aziraphale from the Bastille, he calls him on his bratty behavior and lightly disciplines him, before extracting an erotic price the angel is only too happy to pay.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 417
Collections: Love And Lust Through The Ages





	The Bastille Brat

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Illustration of The Bastille Brat](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/571069) by Aivelin. 



> This fic was written for the AZ Fell’s Love and Lust Through the Ages to accompany Aivelin’s amazing art that’s linked to this fic.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta reader, exspecialagentstarling!

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a mixture of relief and desire in the dim light of the Bastille. It had been over a year since he’d seen him. Although he would never admit it aloud, he’d gotten arrested in the hopes Crowley would show up to rescue him.

What was it the ladies called it? A hanky drop?

Granted, getting arrested and risking discorporation was a bit extreme, but as he took in the auburn haired slim figure, it seemed well worth it.

“Crowley! Good Lord!”

“What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille? I thought you were opening a bookshop,” the demon chided softly.

“I was. I got peckish.”

“Peckish?” The demon’s voice was laden with disbelief.

“Well, if you must know, it was the crepes. You can’t get decent ones anywhere but-“

Crowley moved towards him and Aziraphale’s thin excuse seemed to fade away on his tongue. An unnecessary breath of anticipation caught in his throat as the demon drew close enough, he could smell heady mixture of sandalwood, leather, and lust that seemed to cling to him. He felt Crowley’s eyes move over him possessively and Aziraphale felt his pussy tingle in response.

They had been intimate a number of times over the centuries, but it was always after copious amounts of alcohol. Each time, they knew from the start before they imbibed where the evening would end, but they could blame it on the wine if their side ever confronted them.

Today there was a hunger in the air that was barely disguised and Aziraphale felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he saw the demon raise his fingers in a snap. The angel’s jacket disappeared and his chains shifted so his hands were still restrained but he had a bit more movement.

Silently, Crowley removed his glasses, tucked them in his coat, then circled around Aziraphale taking in the sight before moving behind him and moving his mouth along the side of the angel’s neck.

“You’re lucky I was in the area.”

With a soft whimper, he agreed. “I suppose I am.”

“Suppose nothing. You wanted my attention, angel. Well now you’ve got it. Question is, what to do with you.”

“Do with me?”

Crowley responded with a throaty chuckle as he snapped once more, relieving Aziraphale of his pants and underwear. A blush stole across the angel’s cheeks rapidly deepening as the demon’s hand moved in a caress over the curve of his exposed ass cheeks. It was one thing for Crowley to touch him so boldly when they were alone in the dim light of a drunken evening, but in the middle of the afternoon, an executioner frozen at the other end of the room was quite another!

“You did this very deliberately, angel. That demands punishment.”

“Punishment?” His pussy twitched with nervous anticipation.

“Dressing like this, you were asking for trouble. You knew what you were doing when you came here. A bratty bottom just trying to get my attention-“

“I’m not a brat!” Aziraphale protested.

“The Bastille brat,” Crowley said and withdrew his hand momentarily before bringing it back against the angel’s ass in a hard slap.

The sound echoed in the frozen silence of the cell and seemed to linger in the air. More staccato slaps followed, making Aziraphale’s soft arse sting with pink handprints. Crowley had never done such a thing to him before, but the sensation was not as unwelcome as he would have thought. In fact, Aziraphale felt more than slightly disappointed when the smacks stopped.

Crowley circled around him once more and urged Aziraphale back to a table against the wall. Miraculously, the rough hewn table was smooth against Aziraphale’s tender backside. He gasped as Crowley rubbed his fingers over Aziraphale’s pussy then brought them up slick and shining to his wicked lips.

“I think someone rather enjoyed his punishment,” Crowley said with a smirk. “I’m not sure how much of a lesson you learned today.”

The full impact of the need the demon had drawn out of him hit Aziraphale hard and he slid his hands up under Crowley’s waistcoat to unfasten his breeches. There was a belt with a snake hidden underneath the vest helping to hold the pants on the demon’s slim figure. As the belt came away in his hands, Aziraphale held onto it, not wanting to drop it to the floor. A distant part of his mind wondered if one day his lover might use it bind him or to hit his arse as he had with his hand earlier.

Crowley was always kind to him, but there was something delicious in the idea of being at the demon’s mercy that was incredibly arousing. As he freed Crowley’s cock, Aziraphale was gratified to see the eager gleam of precum at the tip of the thick cock. It was almost as satisfying knowing he aroused Crowley as it was when he made Aziraphale cum. 

Arching his back to invite the demon to touch him, he watched as Crowley slid his long slim fingers between Aziraphale’s round thighs and slipped inside his dripping sex. Crowley kissed him then rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s as he brought him close to the brink of orgasm. He withdrew his fingers and brought them up for the angel to lick.

Obediently, Aziraphale licked his juices off Crowley’s fingers and sighed happily when Crowley pulled his fingers back and kissed him. As he kissed Aziraphale, he pulled the angel’s arse closer to the edge of the table and his hard cock pressed demandingly against the soft wet heat.

This was one time he couldn’t blame the wine for giving himself to Crowley. Aziraphale was spreading his legs eagerly for him in the middle of the day, entirely sober, in a French prison no less! Yet he’d never felt such raw need before, as if he might discorporate if Crowley didn’t take him.

“Please,” he begged.

“Please what, angel?” Crowley teased and pushed forward just enough to part Aziraphale’s pussy lips with his erection, but not enough to provide any release.

“Crowley!”

“Tell me.”

The words didn’t come easily to Aziraphale without a bottle of wine to help. But he’d never felt such an intense need. He felt his wetness pooling on the table beneath him.

“Inside, please, Crowley! I need you inside me!”

“My cock? Is that what you want, angel?”

“Yes!”

Kissing down Aziraphale’s throat, he left a series of marks as he growled softly, “Are you my angel, saying that you want a demon to fuck you?”

“Not any demon, Crowley. You. Only you! Always you!” Aziraphale cried out and faded into a soft groan as his demonic lover thrust deep inside him.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale hard and hissed, “You’re mine. Never forget that. No matter what happenssss. You’re mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed and clung to him as Crowley thrust inside him; his hips twisting and undulating in a slow rhythm that soon pulled Aziraphale to the edge. He clung desperately to the demon. Everything about their coupling was utterly wrong, but nothing had ever felt better or more right at the same time.

Aziraphale came hard, crying Crowley’s name which earned him a kiss and a satisfied smirk from the demon. Pleased with the angel’s climax, Crowley sped up his movements. From experience, the angel knew the demon’s slight trembling meant he was drawing close to orgasm and he kissed him and wrapped his ankles around his waist to allow him easier access.

Another orgasm started to mount in Aziraphale and he bit his lip to keep from saying the words that welled up as he met Crowley’s golden gaze.

I love you.

God help him, but he loved Crowley and no matter what happened, he always would. He had little doubt the demon felt the same way, but it was too dangerous to admit aloud.

Pleasure overtook them at almost the same time and their names lingered in the air as they both cried out. Aziraphale watched as Crowley disentangled and slid down between his thighs. The demon’s long tongue licked soothingly and made quick work of their mess. He paused to bite the inside of Aziraphale’s thigh and leave a mark.

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Aziraphale said after Crowley snapped the chains away and they redressed. “For the, er, rescue.”

“Don’t sssay that,” Crowley hissed softly.

Not wanting things to end, he suggested, “What about if I buy you lunch?”

“Looking like that?”

Aziraphale sighed at the thought of losing his silken finery and snapped his fingers, exchanging all his outer clothing but his shirt with the executioner. He couldn’t bear to lose the scent of Crowley that lingered on it. 

“Barely counts as miracle,” he said with a shrug as Crowley arched an eyebrow at him over the top of his glasses he’d put back on.

“Brat.”

“Bastille brat, thank you very much,” Aziraphale laughed softly.

“My brat,” Crowley told him softly and gave him a swat before snapping his fingers and restarting time.

“What would you say to some crepes?” the angel suggested impishly.

Tomorrow he would worry about the implications of today. For now, there was nothing he wanted more than Crowley’s company.


End file.
